


STEM: Science, Technology, Everything's Magenta

by DesertScribe



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Also possibly robots if Ford will just hurry up and agree to them, Family, Food, Food Science!, Gen, Post-Canon, Science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-22 16:51:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12486328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertScribe/pseuds/DesertScribe
Summary: Mabel can be just as interested in science as Dipper, but that doesn't mean she is going to want to use it for the same purposes.





	STEM: Science, Technology, Everything's Magenta

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Healy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Healy/gifts).



"Grunkle Ford! Grunkle Ford," Mabel shouted as she ran into the room and skidded to halt by Ford's side.

Ford looked up from the old project notes he was trying (with little success) to sort into a more easily searchable order. "Yes, dear, what is it?" he said, curious what had his great niece sounding so excited and what it had to do with him when more often than not, his brother was the one who she ran around shouting for.

"Old Man McGucket is funding a summer robotics club this year, but he says he shouldn't let me join unless you give your permission first."

"What kind of activities would this club have?" Ford asked. Once Dipper and Mabel's parents had been persuaded to believe the full story of the events of that first summer in Gravity Falls, they had given both Stan and Ford a very stern talking to about the responsibilities of supposedly mature adults towards the safety of children, and then they had repeated the process at regular intervals when the first few times didn't seem to stick, and Ford had tried to be at least somewhat more cautious since then. Usually. When he could remember.

"There's this national league of competitive battlebot fighters," Mabel said, practically vibrating with excitement. "Their semi-finals and finals get broadcast on TV and everything!"

"I've seen some of that," Stan said from the doorway. He must have seen or heard Mabel running through the house and followed her to see what all the fuss was about. "They're pretty cool but don't have the same level of emotional drama as Baby Fights, probably because only about of a quarter of the contestants are willing to cry on camera instead of every single one of them."

Ford wasn't quite sure what to say to that, but fortunately he didn't have to say anything, because Mabel was still making her sales pitch.

"Old Man McGucket wants to put together an all girls team as a way of encouraging more women to get into STEM fields, and he says he's sure we can get all the way to nationals based on what he saw from us during Weirdmageddon. It's gonna be awesome," Mabel squealed. She paused then added thoughtfully, "Although I might need to fight Pacifica over which of us gets to design the team logo, but I'm sure if it comes to that it'll happen before any robots get built, so the property damage should be minimal."

That gave Ford pause. He shot a worried look over Mabel's head to Stan, who merely shrugged in reply, which was less than helpful. "Mabel," Ford said with some trepidation, "how big are these robots going to be?"

Mabel just gave a shrug that was an almost perfect echo of the one Stan gave only a moment ago, though with all her focus on Ford and her back to Stan she hadn't been able to see his. "We can't start the design process until the club has officially formed, Grunkle Ford," she said. "That's part of the official rules."

"But how big do you _think_ they're going to be?"

"Most teams don't build anything bigger than what a few people working together can lift into the back of a minivan," Mabel said. However, Ford's moment of relief was short-lived as she grinned and continued, saying, "But there's no official upper limit on size, so Old Man McGucket says it'll be easy for us to make something that'll literally stomp the competition to pieces!"

"No, I am not going to allow you to spend your summer learning to build giant death machines, not until you're at least old enough to vote."

"Awww, but by the time I'm old enough to vote, I will have been old enough to drive for two years, and a car is basically a big metal death machine."

"Only when one is being operated by someone like Stan," Ford said. "However, you make a valid enough point that I'll say yes when you're old enough to drive. That still means you're too young right now, and I'm going to have to talk to Fiddleford about your friends being too young as well."

"Fine," Mabel signed dejectedly. She turned and trudged past Stan and out of the room.

Ford waited for Stan to congratulate him on averting a disaster, but no praise was forthcoming.

Instead, Stan crossed his arms over his chest, narrowed his eyes at Ford and said, "Seriously, Sixer? You'd have killed for an opportunity like that when you were her age."

Ford glowered right back at his brother. "You're the one who told me to keep them out of danger on the first day I met them, Stan," he said. "You should be happy!"

"I wanted you to keep them away from all your demon summoning, soul sucking mutants, and general supernatural weirdness," Stan said. "McGucket may have started a memory erasing cult once and still refuses to get his marriage to that raccoon annulled, but he's offering to teach her solid skills that could be useful to her later in life, and it sounds like the kind of thing she'd have a lot of fun with along the way." He paused, then added, "You would have said yes if Dipper had been the one to ask."

"And then you would have spent the whole summer telling me how wrong I was, and you would have been right to do so!" Ford said with exasperation. "I stand by my decision. However," he continued, taking a paper catalogue almost the size of a telephone book from a nearby shelf, "you are correct in pointing out my bias in dealing with the twins, and I should fix that. Where do you think she went?"

Ford and Stan found Mabel lying on the couch with her head dangling over the edge and her legs propped up against the backrest, texting what appeared to be a long string of various frowning face icons to Candy and Grenda as an old Ducktective rerun played unnoticed on the television. She grunted what might have been a greeting as the men sat down on either side of her, but she kept her eyes focused on her phone.

"I'm just worried about your safety, Mabel, dear," Ford said. "There are other ways you can have fun with science this summer than building things that are probably going to get confiscated by the government for being military grade weaponry. Here," he said, offering up the large catalogue for her to take. "I was going to let Dipper pick a few summer correspondence courses that we could work together on, and you and Stan have reminded me that it's only fair for me to make the same offer to you. There's nothing in here that I'll say no to, and I'll give you whatever help you need with any of the projects. If Candy and Grenda want to sign up, I'll help them too."

Mabel sighed, pushed the button to send her current text message, then set her phone on her stomach. "If you say so," she said without enthusiasm. She accepted the catalogue and, still on her back with her feet in the air, began to page through it, though she looked far from happy with the situation and seemed less and less so the further she went.

Noticing this, Stan held out his hand and said, "Can I have a look at that, sweetie?" Mabel passed it over, and Stan scanned the table of contents. "Yeesh, most of these look dull as dirt, Ford. I'm not sure even Dipper is going to want any of these." Then, something in the list caught his eye. "Wait," he said. "How about one of these?" He turned to the final section and passed the open catalogue back to Mabel.

As Mabel read through the final few pages of the catalogue, her eyes went wide and her face stretched back into the wide grin she had first greeted Ford with a few minutes earlier. "This one," she said, somehow managing to spin herself into an upright position without dropping her phone, touching the floor, or kicking anyone in the face. She pulled a paint marker from a pocket and drew a sparkly gold circle around an entry before handing the catalogue back to Ford. "Definitely, definitely this one!"

Ford read the course name for the circled entry. "Kitchen Science: an introduction to molecular gastronomy."

"Exactly," Mabel said, all joy and sunshine again, as if she had never been denied the chance to build giant robots. "Thank you, Grunkle Ford! And thank you too for finding it, Grunkle Stan!" She gave them each a hug in turn, then jumped off the couch and went happily skipping out of the room, already focused on her phone again, probably sharing the news with Candy and/or Grenda.

Once she was gone, Ford turned to Stan and said, "Kitchen Science is just another name for that Home Economics class all the girls took when we were in high school, right?"

"More like con-artistry with food," Stan said, grinning almost as wide as Mabel had been. He gave Ford a playful punch to the shoulder as he rose from the couch and said, "Have fun taste testing, and good luck, because you're gonna need it!"

Three weeks later, Ford couldn't decide if sharing that catalogue with Mabel had been the best or worst idea ever. Mabel had been blowing through the lessons, picking up new skills in chemistry and occasionally physics and materials science at record speed, but the projects she produced to go along with the lessons tended to be... daunting from an edibility standpoint. Last lesson's slices of pumpkin bread that ignited and toasted a jack-o-lantern face into themselves when spritzed with lemon juice had been especially frightening, and Ford still needed to test several of the chemicals to see if they were safe for human consumption or not. And now he found himself faced with a plate full of suspiciously ordinary looking chocolate muffins.

"They have twenty percent of your daily recommended fiber, as much caffeine as a double shot of espresso, and a full serving of vegetables in every muffin," Mabel said happily. "Also, look what happens when you dunk them in milk!" She shoved one into her glass, and the milk immediately turned dark pink, because apparently the serving of vegetables came from beets, which Ford had already suspected due to the lesson being about natural food dyes and the kitchen looking like a box of magenta printer ink cartridges had been detonated all over every surface.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Mabel said, taking a pink milk soaked bite of what had to be at least her fourth muffin. She had already made Ford eat three, plus taste testing ones from other batches to ensure a wide enough data sample. They tasted good, but on god, _so many beets_.

"So, Mabel" Ford said, trying not to sound like a desperate man, "I've been talking to Fiddleford about that robotics club you mentioned earlier, and we’ve decided you aren't too young for it after all."

"Really, that's great, Grunkle Ford!"

"So you probably aren't interested in continuing these correspondence courses anymore, right?"

"Are you kidding?" Mabel said, "I'm having so much fun that I'm going to do the robots _and_ keep finding time for this! The next three lessons use liquid nitrogen, foams, and making food go through matter phase changes inside a person's mouth. Between this and the robots, this is going to be the best summer ever! I have to go tell Candy and Grenda!" She shoved another muffin into Ford's mouth and went running off either to find her phone or to find her friends in person.

Left alone, Ford chewed and swallowed the muffin as he looked around, contemplating the beet colored destruction of the kitchen and any future destruction that might come from the robotics club. He tried to remind himself that it was all for a good cause, but the thought was cold comfort. "What hath science wrought?" he said, dropping his head into his hands.

**The End**


End file.
